


#ButtHonestly

by astudyinotters753



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Aftercare, Chirping, Fluff, M/M, Overstimulation, Spanking, Submission, Subspace, dom!Bitty, sub!jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:20:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8189677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinotters753/pseuds/astudyinotters753
Summary: Bitty is crossing the room, his brows creased in agitation.  He has to stand up on his tiptoes to sink his flour-covered hands into Jack's hair, but the moment his fingers form into a fist and tighten, Jack knows he's in for it."Jack," Bitty starts, his voice sharp and clear and commanding.  It makes Jack's eyes droop and his body shiver with want."Ye-yes?" he tries, tentatively."You're being a bit of a brat."Jack swallows nervously.  "I am?" he asks, his voice wispy.Jack hears Bitty huff beside him, and before he says anything more, he's tugging down, firmly, and Jack all but falls to his knees on the kitchen floor.  "You are and you know it," Bitty answers, keeping his grip firm.  "You know how this works, Jack.  Bratty boys get spanked."





	

Like many things between them, it starts with a chirp.  It’s Samwell’s fall break, and Bitty is spending it in Providence.  He’s elbow deep in pie dough, there’s a trio of pots simmering away on the stove, and the whole apartment smells like a bakery.  Watching Bitty work has quickly become one of Jack’s favorite things, even if he gets his hands smacked every so often when he tries to steal a taste before Bitty’s finished.

He doesn’t remember exactly what he said, only that what he had intended to be a light-hearted chirp has Bitty’s forehead creasing and his smile falling into a frown.  In his worried attempt to try and correct himself, Jack is sure that he’s saying all the wrong things, a sentiment that’s confirmed by the way Bitty’s eyes close off from him, little by little.  Eventually, he wises up and shuts his mouth long enough for Bitty to get a word in edgewise.  

“Y’know, Jack,” Bitty says, abandoning his grip on the rolling pin to tend to his fillings.  “I’m well aware that I bake a lot.  I didn’t expect you to tease me about it..”

“Well,  _ y’know _ ,” Jack starts, smirking over the top of the counter at him, “I wasn’t expecting you to spend all your time here making pies for my team.”

At the stove, Bitty freezes stock still, his shoulders going tense as he sucks in a measured breath.  Then, one, two, three, he’s turned off the burners of the stove and set the pots aside to cool.  He seems to take a moment to compose himself, for when he turns on his heel, his face is stony and stiff, and Jack is slightly worried that, perhaps, he’s taken his chirping a bit too far.

Bitty takes another deep breath, his hands twitching ever-so-slightly at his sides, as if he’s trying to hold back his frustration, his agitation.  The longer Jack looks at him, the less it seems like he’s able to control himself.

“What?” Jack asks, leaning nonchalantly against the island counter.  “I thought-”

Before Jack can finish his sentence, Bitty is crossing the room, his brows creased in agitation.  He has to stand up on his tiptoes to sink his flour-covered hands into Jack's hair, but the moment his fingers form into a fist and tighten, Jack knows he's in for it.

"Jack," Bitty starts, his voice sharp and clear and commanding.  It makes Jack's eyes droop and his body shiver with want.

"Ye-yes?" he tries, tentatively.

"You're being a bit of a brat."

Jack swallows nervously.  "I am?" he asks, his voice wispy.

Jack hears Bitty huff beside him, and before he says anything more, he's tugging down, firmly, and Jack all but falls to his knees on the kitchen floor.   "You are and you know it," Bitty answers, keeping his grip firm.  "You know how this works, Jack.  Bratty boys get spanked."

Jack's mouth goes dry and heat flares through his belly at Bitty's words.  "I know, I know," he murmurs, his words tumbling, thick from his throat.  "But have I really been that bad?  I mean I thought we were just playin-"

Jack's words are cut off by the lightest slap to his face he's ever endured.

"You know the difference between chirping and being a brat, Mister Zimmermann," Bitty says evenly, his thumb hooking under the bottom of Jack's chin, tilting his head up.

Jack's mouth falls open as Bitty strokes his thumb over the side of his cheekbone, up the little scar from his first game, across the part of his lips.

"Jack," Bitty says, his voice going soft for a moment.  "Give me a color, please?"

"Green," Jack supplies.  "Very very green."

"Good," Bitty says, dipping his thumb inside Jack's mouth.  "Now where do you want to be punished, Jack?"

Beneath him, Jack wraps his lips around Bitty's thumb and sucks, swirling his tongue around the tip in the way Bitty likes.  He smirks as he watches Bitty's eyes grow darker with want.

A moment later, Bitty's hand falls from cradling Jack's face, his thumb coming free of Jack's mouth with a tiny pop.  "Are you sure I deserve to be punished?" Jack asks coyly, looking up at his boyfriend through his eyelashes.

Bitty's hand reaches back and tightens once more in his hair.  Then, with a deliberate slowness, Bitty leans down so that he's nearly eye to eye with Jack.

"Do you make the rules, Jack?" he asks, his voice quiet and stern.

"No," Jack whispers, dropping his gaze to focus on anything besides the intensity of Bitty’s stare.

“Then who does, Jack?” Bitty asks..  

"You do." Jack answers immediately.

"That's right.  I make the rules," Bitty repeats, tugging Jack's head back to expose his neck.  He watches Jack shudder for a moment, then leans in to nip just below Jack's right ear.  "And what do you do, Jack?" he asks, his breath ghosting hot against Jack's ear.

"Je les," he tries.  "Je les suivre."

Bitty bites fiercely further down on his neck, just above his clavicle.  He knows that it's not enough to break the skin, but it will leave a bruise that Jack will poke and prod at for days.  "In English," he orders.

"I follow them!" Jack replies, choking out the words as his arousal spikes.

"That's right," Bitty agrees, pressing a closed-mouth kiss over the blooming love-bite.  "I make the rules, and you follow them."

"Bitty," Jack breathes, his eyes wide and dark and frantically searching for his boyfriend's.  "Bitty, please."

It's the please that does it, and Jack knows it, for the next moment, Bitty's hand falls from his hair to push at his shoulder. "Bedroom," he all but barks.  "Strip down to your boxers and wait for me on the bed."

Immediately, Jack starts scrambling towards the door to their bedroom, doing his best to shuck out of his clothes as he goes.  When his shirt gets stuck over his shoulders, he almost runs face-first into the open doorframe.  

His shirt gets thrown into the hamper, and is quickly followed by his socks.  He shivers a bit, as he stands there for a moment, just looking at the bed.  Bitty had told him to wait on it, but he hadn’t specified how.  He knows Bitty likes it when he faces the door and kneels on the bed, but kneeling on a mattress has never been as nice as kneeling on the cool hardwood.  Or a cushion.  He’s debating whether or not he could get by with kneeling in front of the bed when he feels a solid hand at the base of his spine.

“I thought I told you to wait for me on the bed?” Bitty asks, pressing forward firmly with his hand.  

Jack’s cheeks flush as he lets himself fall forward, his chest pressed down against their comforter, his feet still on the ground.  “I couldn’t decide how to wait for you,” he replies, softly.  “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure you are,” Bitty says, his hand dipping down to trail over the swell of Jack’s ass, his fingers lingering at Jack’s waistband.  “Or, I’m sure that you will be,” he adds.

Jack shivers as Bitty leans down to press a kiss to the top of his spine.  Those hands skirt softly up his sides, and Jack almost mistakes the touch as gentle, but then Bitty’s digging his fingernails in and raking them down, and all the air in Jack’s lungs whooshes out at the sting.

“Do you want your underwear on for this?” Bitty asks, snapping the waistband against Jack’s hips.  “Or do you want me to spank your bare bottom?”

Jack chews on his lip as he considers the question.  It’s one Bitty has asked him from the beginning; underwear on or off?  He knows, from past experience, that if he keeps his underwear on, Bitty is much more likely to both hit him more and use one of the floggers or paddles they’ve stashed in a box under the bed.  On one, memorable occasion, Bitty had tied his hands to the headboard and proceeded to work Jack up for the better part of an hour.  

On the other hand, Jack knows that Bitty won’t hit him as much if he takes off his underwear.  This type of spanking stings and burns sharper than being spanked with the paddle, and has a real opportunity to overwhelm him.  He loves the way his skin heats up at Bitty’s touch, the way a well-placed swat can center his mind in on just the parts of him that Bitty touches.  

A sharp pain radiating from the tops of his thighs draw him back from his meandering thoughts.  “I asked you a question, Jack,” Bitty reminds him, fingers running over the skin he’d hit.  “I expect an answer.”

Jack swallows thickly, and does his best not to arch back into his boyfriend’s touch.  “I don’t know,” he admits, turning to bury his head in the sheets.  His next attempt at a sentence is too muffled for either of them to make sense of it.

Behind him, Bitty sighs heavily, reaches up to twine his fingers in Jack’s hair once again, and pulls back sharply.  Jack’s back bows back, and a moan falls from his open mouth.

“Do you need me to take care of you, honey?” Bitty asks, climbing up on the bed to press his still-clothed front to Jack’s naked back.  “Want me to make all the decisions?”

“Ouais,” Jack breathes, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.  “s’il te plaît.  J’ai besoin… j’ai besoin.”

With a growl, Bitty lets him go, shuffles off the bed, and swats at Jack’s thighs again.  “Come on, honey.  You know I don’t know French that well,” he chastises, hitting the same place over and over again as he speaks.  “Tell me again in English?”

The translations spill from Jack’s mouth out of order, his French mashing together with his English.  Later on, when their session is over and Jack’s curled up and tucked in on the couch, he’ll be impressed that Bitty was able to understand anything he was saying.  But right now, in this moment, all Jack can focus on is how much he loves the way his thighs are burning, and how much he wants  _ more _ .  

Behind him, Bitty tuts gently at him.  “You’re doing so well, Jack,” he says, his fingers hooking under the edge of Jack’s waistband.  He pulls his hands back, quick and rough, and before Jack can fully comprehend what’s happening, his underwear has been removed entirely, and Bitty’s hands are sliding up his warm, pink thighs to squeeze at his ass.    

“Before too long I won’t even have to remind you.  You’ll just be used to it, won’t you?” Bitty asks, bending down to press a kiss at the base of Jack’s spine.  “My good boy, being able to tell me what he wants.”

Bitty’s words and attention drip over him slow and hazy, like honey into lemonade in the middle of August in Georgia.  He feels his breath sink heavy in his lungs, and for a moment, it feels just like the first time he stepped off the plane in Atlanta all those months ago, the air so thick, Jack was sure he was going to suffocate with the humidity.  Now, he just feels a little like he’s going to suffocate from each of Bitty’s sugar crusted words, from each of Bitty’s fire hot touches, from the entirety of Bitty’s focused attention.

Bitty lets him wait for a moment, lets him luxuriate in the gentle touches before he’s pulling back and asking Jack questions he’s only paying half attention to.  “Jack,” Bitty calls, bringing in his attention again.  “Do you know why you’re being punished, sweetie?”

Slowly, Jack nods and brings himself up to rest on his elbows.  “I was being a brat,” he replies, his words thick.  “and bratty boys get spanked.”

“Mmhhmm,” Bitty hums, his hands rubbing over the swell of Jack’s ass.  “And do you know why I said you were bratty, Jack?”

“I was chirping you while you were baking those pies,” Jack answers, pressing back into Bitty’s touch.  “And I didn’t know when to stop.  Right?”

“That’s very good, Jack,” Bitty murmurs, sliding his hands up and around until he’s gripping the sides of Jack’s hips.  “Are you ready for me to start?”

On the bed, Jack nods.  “Yes,” he adds, a heartbeat later.  “I’m ready.”

He hears Bitty hum a warm, pleased sound behind him.  “Ok then, Mister Zimmermann.  I’m going to start off with twenty strikes.  Think you can count them for me?”

Before Jack can reply, the first strike is searing hot against his ass.  It takes him a few, agonizingly slow seconds to stutter out the count.  As soon as the mangled “one” drops from his lips, Bitty’s continuing on, hitting harder and harder in the same spot until tears are welling up in Jack’s eyes.

Stroke fifteen has Jack babbling numbers between broken phrases in drowsy french.  Gently, Bitty strokes over his flushed skin.  “Jack,” he murmurs, bending to press a kiss to one of Jack’s cheeks.  “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes,” Jack replies, nodding fervently.  “I can take it.  I want it.”

“Okay, honey,” Bitty murmurs, pulling back away.  “How much do you want?”

“A lot,” Jack babbles, shifting his weight down to his forearms.  “I want to take fifty.”

Bitty’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead at his boyfriend’s statement.  “Lord, Jack,” he breathes.  “I’m not sure I can do fifty with my hand,” he admits.

Jack whines and arches backwards, pressing his ass towards Bitty in what he hopes is a tantalizing way.  “You could use your belt,” he offers, his head falling forward, bangs grazing against the sheets.  “Or the paddle, or the flogger, or one of our hockey sticks…”

“Calm down, Jack,” Bitty says, reaching out a hand to settle his boyfriend where he’s wiggling.  When Jack stills, Bitty walks around the side of the bed so that he can see Jack’s face.  “Honey, if I use any of those things on you, it’s gonna leave bruises.”

A finger under his chin causes Jack to look up at Bitty.  “That’s okay,” he says, softly, like it’s a secret.  “I want the bruises,” he confesses.

Bitty looks hard at him for a long moment, as if he’s trying to figure out if he’s telling the truth.  Then, with a brief kiss to his forehead, Bitty is sliding off the side of the bed and ducking down to pull something out of their toy box.  Jack doesn’t know what it is until the Bitty lands the sixteenth strike, and  _ oh _ .  Jack’s barely able to choke out the number that they’re at, because he’s so fixated on the fact that Bitty chose the paddle, and it feels  _ perfect _ against his ass.

Stroke twenty-four has Jack squirming, and it’s somewhere around thirty-one where Bitty has to stop for a moment, his hands sweeping over Jack’s ass to grab at his hands and pin them firmly to the middle of his back.  

“You wanted fifty strokes, didn’t you, Mister Zimmermann?” he growls.

“Yes,” Jack pants, squirming under Bitty.  “Yes.”

“Then you need to stay  _ still _ ,” Bitty reprimands, enforcing his words with a squeeze around Jack’s wrists.  “Do you think you can do that for me, honey?”

Jack’s eyebrows knit together, and his face looks fierce for a moment before he shakes his head and slumps forward in defeat.  “Might need some help,” he finally replies.

“I’d love to help you, sugar,” Bitty says, leaning in to press a kiss to the back of Jack’s shoulders.  “Now, do you want to hold on to the headboard, lay on your hands, or have me tie them just like this behind your back?”

Jack’s response comes immediately, the word “tied,” falling from his lips.  They haven’t really tried too much ropework, not with the way their schedules hardly align.  But, they have experimented with simple ties, and Jack’s eager to try more.  He’s thinking about all the different ways he’s imagined Bitty tying him, and is thinking about asking if he can have more than just a simple rig when Bitty pulls back, ever so slightly.  There’s a slight jangling noise followed by a string of curses, and then Bitty’s looping warm leather around Jack’s wrists, and Jack’s mind goes quiet.

The next thirteen strokes turn Jack into a whimpering, squirmy, teary mess.  His world has narrowed down to just the burning in his back side, the delicious way the upper parts of his thighs ache when he moves around, the way his whole body feels superheated and strung out.  He knows that he’ll be feeling sore for the next few days- knows that he’ll be uncomfortable sitting down in a chair for at least three, but instead of being worried about whether his teammates will notice, Jack finds himself looking forward to watching how the bruises Bitty’s leaving are going to heal.

“Fuck, Jack, you’re doing so well for me, baby,” Bitty says, after swat number forty-three, bringing his hand up to drag his fingertips over the welts that are raising, hot and angry across Jack’s backside.  “You’ve got seven more hits, sweetheart.  Can you do that for me?  Just seven more?”

“Y-yes,” Jack hisses, arching back into Bitty’s hand.

“Then count them for me,” Bitty orders softly.  He pauses to dig his fingers into the meat of Jack’s ass and relishes in the noise of pleasure that gets strangled in Jack’s throat.  “Can  you be my good boy and count for me?”

Before him, Jack nods shakily, his head jerking roughly up and down.  Sighing, Bitty smacks a raised welt with his open palm.  

“Jack,” he scolds, hitting repeatedly over the same spot, “Use your words.  Don’t make me ask you again.”

“I can count!” Jack whines, the words barely able to tumble from his lips before his head falls back down to nestle in the pillow.  

“Good, Sweetheart,” Bitty croons, picking the paddle back up.  “Here we go.  Last seven.”

The first swat has Jack barking out a mangled, “one,” and it’s enough to make Bitty’s cock jerk in his boxers.

“Look at you, Jack,” Bitty says, delivering swats two and three in quick succession right over Jack’s already bruising sit spot.  He watches, entranced, as Jack’s hips do a little roll in response to the stimulation, his hard cock bobbing up and down as precome weeps from the rosy slit, spilling down over Jack’s foreskin to drip into their sheets.  

Bitty has known for a while now that Jack likes this, likes to give up his control and even likes it when Bitty hurts him, but it always makes his heart flutter when he sees physical proof of Jack’s pleasure.  “You’re so beautiful,” Bitty murmurs,  taking a moment to carefully aim hit number four so that the paddle cracks hard and unrelenting across the tops of Jack’s thighs.  

Jack stutters out the count, first in French, then following with English after Bitty’s hand strikes harshly over the blow he’d just delivered.  He’s so close to crying, Bitty can tell by the way tension keeps bunching and relaxing rhythmically in Jack’s shoulders.  Another ten after this with the paddle would likely put Jack under, would let him float freely in his head, but they’ve never quite gone there, and Bitty’s not sure that’s what’s best for Jack right now.  

“You’ve got three left, sweetheart,” Bitty says, taking his time to grope Jack’s ass in earnest.  He trails his fingers up and down his boyfriend’s crack, and smiles at the little shivers that run down Jack’s spine.  Taking a moment for himself, Bitty presses his thumbs in just enough that he can get a good grip, then pulls his hands gently apart, spreading Jack open for him.  “Do you want them all at once?  Or do you want me to keep teasing you in between?” he asks, watching enraptured as Jack’s hole flutters under his gaze.

“Please,” is all Jack can say as his chest falls to press against the sheet, his fingers balling into fists where they rest against the small of his back.  “Just,  _ please _ .”

With a deep breath, Bitty drops his hold on Jack’s ass and walks around to the side of the bed to look at Jack’s face.  “What do you want, honey?” he asks, hooking his fingers under Jack’s chin to guide his boyfriend’s gaze up to his own.  “Do you want to keep going, or do you want me to stop?

“Don’t stop,” Jack whispers, his voice hoarse.  Tears are starting to pool at the corners of his eyes, and Bitty almost puts a stop to it all when he sees just how far Jack’s pupils are blown out.  

“Do you trust me, Jack?” Bitty asks, his hold on Jack’s chin going firm.  “Do you trust me to give you what you need?”

“Yes,” he replies, nodding furiously.  The rest of the words that fall from his mouth are a jumble of mixed French and English, but Bitty lets it slide in favor of bending down to press a lingering kiss to Jack’s forehead.

“All right, Mister Zimmermann,” he says, pulling away to resume his place at the foot of the bed.  “I’m going to give you what you need.  You don’t have to count anything anymore, just promise to tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

“Okay,” Jack confirms.  While Bitty’s moving, he sucks in a slow, measured breath and holds it until his lungs start to burn.  The breath punches out of him when Bitty steps back and presses his hand, warm and steady, against the dip in his lower back.

“Let go, baby,” Bitty says, rubbing his thumb along the knobs in Jack’s spine.  “Let go for me.”

He waits to move further until he’s watched and felt Jack’s lungs swell slowly under his fingertips, holding the breath in for a long moment before exhaling noisily.  When he feels Jack start to relax more into the bed, he swings the paddle down, hitting against the swell of Jack’s ass as hard as he can.  

Beneath him, Jack squirms as Bitty lets the paddle rain down, striking against his already abused flesh over and over.  The more Jack shifts on the bed, the faster Bitty’s pace goes.  He’s about an additional fifteen strikes in when Jack loses control over his position and lets his belly fall against the bed with a whine.  

“Bitty,” he pants, groaning low and deep and broken as his cock rubs against the sheets of their bed.  “I’m close.”

“You don’t get to come yet, Jack,” Bitty says, reaching forward to anchor a hand into Jack’s hair.  He pulls back on his boyfriend’s head, and feels heat flare in his belly at the sight of Jack all stretched out and whining.  “You have to let go for me first, sweetheart.”

“I’m trying,” Jack pants, his eyebrows furrowing together as his brain tries to come up with a more complete sentence.  “I want,” he tries again, swallowing thickly around a broken sob that catches in his throat.  “I  _ want _ .”

“Then let go,” Bitty repeats, more firmly this time.  He drops his hold on Jack’s hair and goes back to spanking him, hard and fast, until the tears that have been pooling at the corners of Jack’s eyes spill over and drip down his chin.  The muscles in Jack’s arms and shoulders strain as Bitty keeps going, layering strike after strike on top of superheated flesh.  

He watches, with rapt fascination as Jack continues to wiggle on the bed, his face scrunching as his brain tries so desperately to process what’s happening, to try and keep up with what Jack is feeling both in his head and his body.  Tears start to soak into the sheets under Jack’s face, and Bitty can’t help but feel a twinge of pride at the way Jack’s cheeks color when his brain catches up to him.  

“Turn off your brain, Jack,” Bitty coos at him, swinging the paddle down with an abnormally loud crack against the tops of Jack’s thighs.  “Just focus on what your body is feeling.”

At Bitty’s words, Jack’s mouth falls open and he whimpers against the sheets.  Over the course of the next three hits, Jack’s forehead smooths.  After seven, his eyes have glazed over.  After twelve, his shoulders and arms relax, and the only squirming he does is to continue rutting against the sheets.  He comes sometime between strike twenty and thirty, his whole body seizing up as orgasm crashes over him hard and intense.  

When his cock has stopped pulsing, Jack feels his body droop and melt into the bed, his muscles going lax.  He hears the small  _ click _ of Bitty setting down the paddle, the soft  _ schhwet schhwet _ of his feet as he shuffles away, the soft  _ creak _ of the loose sink handle in their bathroom.  Then, Bitty is coming back and rubbing a warm washcloth over Jack’s ass, and pressing at his hips to get him on his side.  

“Come on, Jack,” Bitty murmurs, bending down to press a  kiss to his shoulder.  “Can you roll on your side for me so I can get you all nice and cleaned up?”

Huffing, Jack wiggles onto his side, his eyes fluttering shut as Bitty swipes the washcloth carefully over his forehead, across his chest and abdomen, down to mop up the last few drops of come that had smeared sticky over the head of his cock.  When he’s clean enough, Bitty tosses the washcloth into their hamper, and immediately reaches for the buckle of the belt wrapped around Jack’s arms.

As soon as Jack’s hands are free, Bitty is tugging gently on his elbow, guiding him to a clean spot on the bed.  When Jack is settled, warm and on his stomach again, Bitty’s hands return and rub careful circles into his forearms.  “How are you feeling, honey?” Bitty asks, taking a moment to twine his fingers together with Jack’s.

“Good,” Jack hums, squeezing Bitty’s hand ever so slightly.  “Floaty.”

Bitty smiles, lets go of Jack’s hand, and rubs his palms up either side of Jack’s spine.  “I’m glad, handsome,” he comments, leaning up to press a kiss to the base of Jack’s neck.  “Just relax for me, ok?  I’m gonna get some lotion on your welts.”

Jack sighs, brings his arms up to cross under his cheek, and nods.  “Yeah,” he signs, offhandedly.  “Yeah.”

He lays there as Bitty takes his time, warming the lotion between his hands before smoothing it over his raised, red skin.  It tingles as Bitty works the lotion in, his skin prickling at each swipe of Bitty’s fingers.  He sucks in a breath and luxuriates on the feeling and his exhale takes on the form of a content sigh.  He’s half asleep before Bitty finally finishes and settles in behind him, his clothes scratchy against Jack’s skin.  

Bitty takes a moment, when he’s settled, to work his fingers into Jack’s hair, carding through the dark strands as they lay there.  “Do you want me to stay while you nap, honey?” he asks, his voice soft and gentle, curling around his ear like the steam from a freshly baked pie.  “Want me to wrap you up tight and let you float?”

In lieu of a verbal answer, Jack just nods his head and sinks a little more into their bed  A moment later, Jack feels Bitty slip off the side of the bed and listens to him undress, counting the seconds until Bitty is sliding up behind him again, tugging a soft blanket up to tuck it around Jack’s shoulders.

“How’s this, handsome?” Bitty asks, pressing a kiss to the nape of Jack’s neck.  

Jack wiggles a bit, pushing back against Bitty until their bodies are pressed together and Bitty’s legs are tangled with his.  “Perfect,” Jack sighs, letting his eyes droop shut, his eyelashes dragging against the pillow.

“You did so good for me, baby,” Bitty murmurs, his breath puffing against the divot between Jack’s shoulder blades.  “You took your punishment so beautifully.”

Jack stiffens for a moment before hurriedly rolling over to look at his boyfriend.  “I did?” he asks, his words hitching in his throat.

“Mmmmhhmm,” Bitty hums, reaching up to cup Jack’s cheek with his hand.  “You were so good,” he repeats.

Jack’s gaze darts from Bitty’s eyes, down to fix on his collarbone.  “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

“Oh honey,” Bitty says, stroking his thumb over the top of Jack’s cheek.  “Of course you’re forgiven.”

At his words, Jack seems to sag back into the bed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  “Thank you,” he murmurs, just loud enough for Bitty to hear him.

“You’re welcome, honey,” Bitty replies, tugging Jack in so that he can tuck his chin over the top of Jack’s head.  “Now go to sleep.”

Little by little, Jack’s continues to let go.  He lays there, his breath evening out as he counts Bitty’s heartbeats.  His body bleeds tension until he’s limp and sleep warm.  He’s happy like this, curled up against his boyfriend with a fresh slate and stinging ass.  Just before he drops off, Jack feels Bitty check the covers once more, making sure that he’s sufficiently covered and warm. 

“Love you,” Jack murmurs into golden skin.

“I love you too, honey,” Bitty replies.  “Now sleep.”

With a smile on his face, Jack obeys.


End file.
